Seth (Men of Clifton, Montana #55)

Chapter One

On a crisp March morning, Seth Harrison strode across the yard toward the barn until he halted in his tracks at the sight of a pickup truck rumbling up his driveway.

A wry smile spread across his face as he recognized the truck as Ash Beckett’s.

Once the vehicle came to a stop, Seth ambled over as Ash stepped out with a grin, extended his hand warmly, and the two exchanged a firm shake.

“What brings you out this way, Ash?” Seth inquired, his tone was both curious and friendly.

Ash grinned and asked, “Have you heard of Western Living magazine out of California?”

“Yeah, I subscribe to it, why?” Seth replied, raising an eyebrow.

Ash grinned. “They want to do an article on me.”

“That’s great.”

“I think so, too. The thing is, they’re planning an article that will feature photos of the ranches and farms growing my feed.

I know it’ll be a bit of a hassle having someone trailing behind all day, but it’s fantastic publicity for the company,” Ash explained, his voice a mix of excitement and exasperation.

“Like you need good PR,” Seth teased, his grin matching Ash’s.

Ash chuckled, shaking his head as he added, “It’s never enough, my friend.”

“Well, that would be something. So, what do I have to do?” Seth asked, his tone light and cooperative.

“They’re sending a photographer out here the first week of April,” Ash said, shading his eyes against the morning sun that gilded the area.

“Since that’s when you’ll start prepping the land.

I spoke to Drew Cox, he owns the magazine, and he still hasn’t decided who to send.

Could be a man or a woman. They’ll trail you or the crew, snapping shots as you go.

” He paused. “Just keep the men focused. Don’t let them clown around for the camera. I know you’ll keep them in line.”

Seth drew in a slow breath, the scent of earth and cold drifting on the breeze. He offered a firm nod. “Alright. I’ll make sure they behave.”

Ash cracked a sympathetic smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “I know you will. Once the photographer’s here, show them everything that has to do with planting. I know you’ll be busy training horses, but if you can spare some time, I’d appreciate it. If you can’t, Cull can do it.”

“Sure,” Seth said. “I’ll try but I do have a few horses to train.”

Ash gave his shoulder a friendly clap, the echo of leather gloves on denim.

“Fair enough. Drew wants a ton of photos. So, when you break ground, he’ll want pictures of you plowing and planting of the oats and corn.

Then the photographer will stay around to capture growth, depending on how the seedlings fare.

They’ll be here on the first of April, and possibly a few days into May.

It depends on how well the growth goes. They’ll head off to another assignment but come back at harvest to get those final shots. ”

Seth lifted an eyebrow. “A month here.”

“Yes, or more since we can’t predict the weather and if it rains, I know you aren’t out planting.” Ash leaned against the tailgate of his truck; its bed still caked with mud. “Drew’s booked one of them into the Clifton Bed and Breakfast and the others at the Bur Oak.”

“And how many photographers are we talking?” Seth asked, folding his arms across his chest.

“Three in total; one here with you, one over at Cord’s place, and the third at Boone’s, but those won’t be here at all.”

Seth offered a wry half-smile. “Got it. I’ll get the crew ready.”

“Oh, and heads-up, a journalist will be coming the following week,” Ash added as he climbed back into the driver’s seat.

“Cox didn’t give me a name yet, but you’ll hear from them once they arrive.

They’ll be interviewing me, then getting some questions from you, Boone, and Cord about the process of planting.

I’m not sure how long they’ll be here since the one they’re sending has to interview all three of you guys. ”

“I’ll keep an eye out for him,” Seth replied, glancing at the thin morning mist swirling above the fields. “I hope they pack warm clothes. California might be spring-warm, but out here it could snow this time of year.”

Ash laughed. “Yeah, I did tell Drew to tell them to bring warm clothing. I’ll text you the photographer’s name once I know it. I appreciate you, Seth. Have a good one.”

“You too, Ash,” Seth called after him, watching the truck’s tires crunch over gravel as it backed down the dusty drive.

He folded his arms and surveyed the fields; rows waiting to be tilled, the promise of green on the horizon.

Though the thought of a photographer trailing his men pulled at his nerves, Seth squared his shoulders and resolved to follow Ash’s instructions, as long as they didn’t interfere with the work that lay ahead.

Later that evening, Seth’s phone vibrated from the arm of the chair, and he picked it up to see a text from Ash: The photographer they’re sending is Ryan Carroll.

Seth sent back a thank you, then settled in to watch some TV.

Saturday morning, while inspecting the barn and checking machinery, Seth heard the unmistakable sound of a vehicle pulling up.

With a resigned sigh, he didn’t know who it could be since no one was expected.

Seth reached for a clean rag, wiped his hands, and removed his denim jacket from its peg, and slipped it on.

He then retrieved his hat from a nearby hook and placed it securely on his head.

Emerging from the barn into the bright, unyielding sunlight, Seth halted abruptly when he spotted a woman standing beside a sleek, black SUV.

Shielding her eyes with one hand as she looked around, she appeared momentarily out of place amidst the rugged surroundings.

Unsure of who she might be, he decided to approach her, suspecting she could be lost. She was dressed in a form-fitting red skirt paired with a white long-sleeved blouse with red polka dots that delicately accentuated her figure.

Her shiny black hair was swept up into an elegant bun, gleaming beneath the noon sun.

As Seth’s eyes wandered appreciatively over her toned legs and the graceful curve of her figure, he nearly let out a groan when he noticed the red stilettos on her feet.

Taking a deep, steady breath, he advanced toward her, acutely aware that her eyes still roamed elsewhere.

The air seemed to still around him as he neared.

“Ma’am?” he called softly. The moment she turned, her gaze catching him, his heart raced as though suddenly unmoored.

Clearing his throat, he asked, “Do you need some help?”

A gentle smile spread across her face as if lit by an inner radiance, and he found himself mesmerized by the pronounced dimples adorning her cheeks.

Her skin, smooth and porcelain, seemed so flawless that he imagined even the gentlest sunlight might too harshly kiss it.

With assured grace, she walked toward him with her hand extended toward him.

“Mr. Harrison?” she inquired, her tone a blend of warmth and curiosity.

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied, taking her hand. As their grip met, his eyes were drawn irresistibly into the depths of her cobalt blue stare; a gaze that held both mystery and allure. In that moment, she was stunning beyond measure.

“I’m Ryan Carroll, a photographer with Western Living magazine,” she announced, her voice soft yet confident.

“You’re Ryan Carroll?” he repeated, a note of surprised intrigue in his tone.

She tilted her head, the movement accentuating the elegant curve of her neck, and a thought flickered through his mind so intensely that it nearly overwhelmed him; he wanted to know her in every possible way. “You were expecting a man, weren’t you?” she teased, her words dancing lightly in the air.

“With a name like Ryan, why would I think otherwise?” he responded, attempting light banter even as his pulse quickened.

“That’s a little chauvinistic, isn’t it, Mr. Harrison?” she countered playfully, her eyes crinkling at the corners with amusement.

“Not really,” he offered with a nonchalant shrug. “Ryan is usually associated as a man’s name.”

She grinned, her voice lilting as she remarked, “Well, some women do have male names. Surely, I’m not the first one you’ve met.

” In that instant, Seth’s mind drifted briefly to memories of Dylan Reeves and Rory Richards, both exquisite women, each married to two of his closest friends, firmly reminding him that assumptions often missed the mark.

“No, you’re not,” he conceded with a small, rueful smile. “I apologize.”

“I accept,” she replied evenly. “I just wanted to stop in and introduce myself. I just arrived from Kalispell.”

“Ma’am—”

“Ryan.”

He exhaled sharply, a mix of exasperation and reluctant admiration coloring his tone. “Ryan. I hope you’re not planning to dress like that. You can’t trail anyone around in that getup.”

“Getup? I had a last-minute meeting this afternoon—

“On a Saturday?” Seth raised an eyebrow.

“Yes. The person who was assigned to this was unable to make it. I was at a wedding reception, Mr. Harrison, and had less than twenty minutes to get to the airport for my flight. I didn’t have time to change,” she protested, a hint of indignation mingling with good humor.

“I’ll wear appropriate clothes on Monday. ”

“Make sure you do, Ms. Carroll. You will get dirty,” he said, gesturing to his dirty clothes.

“You certainly wouldn’t navigate a pasture in those heels.

You’ll need something more suited to the rugged outdoors, casual clothes, a T-shirt, jeans, and sturdy boots.

A cowboy hat wouldn’t hurt either; with your fair skin, you really need protection from the sun. ”

After a moment’s thought, she nodded. “Alright. I’ll see you Monday.”

“Fine,” he confirmed, his tone brisk. “Be here by eight.”

“Is that when you start work?” she asked, rubbing her arms at the chill.

“No, ma’am. We start at five, but since it’s still dark, it would be better for you to wait until later.”